


MJ: Mystery in the Spider-Verse

by kat6ix



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 03:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21439750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat6ix/pseuds/kat6ix
Summary: When journalism student Emelyn Watson finds an unusual material around a crime-scene, she realizes that she's in the middle of the biggest story of the year - all while juggling university and life.





	1. Em and Gwen

** _Monday, December 17th_ **

“It’s Saturday at Harry’s.”

The date for the party had only been finalized this afternoon, but it had been the trending topic for nearly a month. Harry Osborn was throwing a Christmas party. Harry’s parties were legendary around Empire State University, and everyone in the school was invited. Normally, when the “popular” people around ESU have parties, they’re restricted to those within the inner circle. Even Harry’s parties, historically, have had an exclusive invite list. Not this time. It was clear that Harry wanted _ everyone _ there - The nerds, the jocks, the stoners, the geeks, the preps... _ everyone _.

If everyone enrolled in ESU attended, there would be plenty of room empty in the Osborne Mansion. Harry lived in one of the biggest towers in New York - a building with “Oscorp” text embossed in gold at the top to represent Oscorp Industries.

“_This _Saturday?” Walking her normal route home down a busy street, Emelyn “Em” Janine Watson was holding her phone in one hand and her bag in the other. She was talking to Gwen Stacy, her friend of the last seven years and roommate in a small apartment on the North side of the city.

“He likes to make his announcements memorable.” Gwen was at the apartment, sorting through clothes that had been sitting in a “to-be-washed” bin. She was sorting them between two categories, as previously described to Em. “Shit, that’s gross,” and “It’s winter, so it’s probably wearable under a jacket.”

“We knew it was coming soon, Christmas is next week. I did some digging, Harry’s always had his party with fewer than ten days until the 25th. That’s eight parties, from the ninth grade to now, since he’s in our year.” Em, Gwen, and Harry are all in their senior year of post-secondary education. Gwen is a theatre major, which, when she decided it, surprised nobody around her. Her dream has always been to act or sing in major stage productions.

“Makes sense.” There was silence on Em’s phone for a few seconds, and then a “thud” noise. “Em, gotta go. I’ve gotta find clothes for tonight. I have a useless class.”

“That’s fine, I have a subway to catch. Later.” Em’s headphone audio changed automatically changed to the song she had been listening to before the conversation, and she walked down the stairs, into the station.

Twenty-five minutes later, when Em got back to her dorm room, Gwen had left.

_ Good. I need quiet. _

She dropped the bag from her shoulder and sat at her desk. Sitting at her desk was a full computer tower and monitor.

Em is the first in her family’s history to study journalism. Her mother, Carroll, is a medical doctor, and her father, Michael, is a scientist working for Oscorp Industries. She was pushed to study journalism and media when her Aunt Anna read a piece she wrote for her High School newspaper. Really, though, shewould have studied it without any input from her Aunt.

Routine is a habit that Em has been trying to achieve for several months. She wanted to prepare her mind for a deadline-oriented job at a newspaper or media company. Her current goal was to write a 500-700 word news article every weekday at 6 PM, except for on Thursday, a day in which she had a class until 8 PM. Seeing as this day was a Monday, She spent two hours, beginning at 5:58 PM, writing a piece about the local political situation. The Mayoral elections were in late January, and New York City incumbent Norman Osborne was facing pressure from opponents Wilson Fisk and Kainoa Amoaʻi.

ESU does one-on-one sessions twice a year, and during the last one Em got praise from her news journalism professor, Mr. Leland Owlsley, of whom his students refer to as “The Owl” behind his back. The Owl had told Em that she possessed a “journalistic touch,” to which she politely responded “thank you,” trying to hide the uncertainty in her voice. “Whatever the fuck _ that _ means,” she muttered to herself after she left his office.

What Owlsley had meant was that she possessed an instinct that only great journalists have. That he could feel that she would do almost anything to get a story as long as it was ethical. Unbeknownst to Em, Owlsley considered her to have the most potential of the whole upcoming graduating class.

Not that Em would have agreed. There’s a sense of self-doubt that’s usually on her mind, specifically about the quality of her writing. She felt it often fell flat or took too long to get to the point.

Tonight, however, was different. It wasn’t a heavy news day so she decided to add some more spice to her article. She would later describe it as “voice.” It didn’t matter to her either way, as after her stories were complete, she’d print them on 8.5x11 paper, put them in a drawer, and shred them at the end of the month. If she really liked something she wrote, she put it in a folder on a USB memory stick marked “SAMPLES.” She keeps the flash drive on her keychain, of which she always keeps in her pocket.

Shortly after the eight o’clock hour began, the dorm room door swung open, loudly hitting the wall and causing a loud crash. “Guess who’s back!” She elongated the word back so that the word had at least four syllables by the end.

“You? Christ, Gwen, it’s eight at night, we’ll get complaints.” Em still hadn’t looked up from her computer; she was trying to proofread the second half of her article.

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Pfft, no. I come back every night. Well, most nights.”

“I hope you’re referring to the nights you stay at your Mom’s.” Em still didn’t look behind her, or she would have seen that a plate had fallen from the counter as a side effect from the door slam. It was, obviously, a plate that Gwen had left next to the edge of the counter.

Gwen walked over to the closet to grab the broom. “Well, I _ am _single and ready to mingle.” She smiled quickly in an artificial way. “Yikes. Cringing at myself.” She looked over for a reaction and got nothing. “Damn, Em. I’m in the greatest of moods and you’re just a killer buzzjoy.” She made a detour to the fridge, and grabbed a ginger ale. “No, I’m talking about Pete. He’s back from London.”

Just finishing her paper, Em started up the printer. “Didn’t you two have a thing back in the twelfth grade or something?”

“Well, almost. Kind of? It’s hard to describe. I’m pretty sure we were just friends or-” Gwen stopped talking when she caught a glimpse of Em’s expression. She took a sip of ginger ale. “Guess you saw the plate.”

With the printed paper in the drawer, Em walked into her bedroom and stuck her head out the door into the shared area in which the plate was still shattered on the floor. “Gwen, never change. But, please. For the love of God, change.” She shut the door.

Gwen raised an eyebrow and raised her voice so she could be heard through the door. “That means you’re _ not _going to help me with the plate?”


	2. Ethics in Journalism

** _Tuesday, December 18th_ **

Em had a morning class.

If there’s one thing about her schedule that she _ hated, _it was the Tuesday morning class. 7 AM to 11:30 AM. “Ethics in Journalism,” a class that she really wished was at a later time, because even though it was a really important course to know, she found herself distracted by any food, coffee, or really anything that was on the news in the morning. Usually, there was nothing too interesting to catch up when it was that early. Tuesday, December 18th was different.

With a cup of black tea, a bowl of wheat o’s cereal, a cream cheese bagel (sesame seed), and a bowl of grapes, Em opened her laptop to a live stream of the morning news-ticker channel and put on her earbuds. When the page loaded, she gasped and dropped her spoon on her keyboard. _ Fuck. Okay, wait, hold on. _

She pulled her earbuds out from beneath her red hair, turned off her laptop, ran for some paper towel, cleaned off her keyboard (which thankfully wasn’t too full of milk), and sat back down.

_I did NOT just see what I thought I just saw. This changes everything. What the hell?_

She pressed the power button of her laptop. When she logged in, she went straight to the homepage of “The Daily Bugle.”

“BREAKING: Wilson Fisk dead at 47. Cause of death unknown. Mayor Osborne will address the press at 7:15 AM.”

_Well, shit. I did read that. Was NOT expecting that today._

Em checked her phone for the time. 6:13 AM.

_Can I afford an absence? ...Fuck it. Where’s the Osborne meeting?_

It was in front of the main Oscorp building, predictably enough. Em would later say she debated on whether to go to class, or go to the event. In reality, the debate was about as one-sided as a kid debating their mom on whether a second Christmas in July could happen. Once she saw the news, she knew she was going to the press conference.

Em always carries a medium-sized brown leather bag, and it usually contains the same few items. There’s her laptop, a solid-state drive, a voice recorder, a DSLR camera in a soft case, a mini-tripod, a notepad, a bag of pens, and, in an inner pocket that’s hidden to the untrained eye, a vapour pen with a CBD mixture that she uses to calm down when she’s overwhelmed with stress or anxiety.

She wrote a quick email to her professor, using the “not feeling well” excuse, finished her breakfast, and got to the conference early. Unfortunately for her plan to set up her tripod for video, every breaking-news journalist in the city was there early as well. She settled for a spot on the side of the crowd of people, and quickly got her camera and voice recorder out. 

About twenty-five minutes passed and the Mayor of New York City approached the podium that had been set up a few minutes after Em arrived.

Norman Osborne tapped the microphone to test for sound, then began talking. “I am deeply, deeply saddened by the news I heard while working late last night.” Em rolled her eyes. _ Sure, Norman. “Working.” It was three in the morning. Your mind was working on what dream to play next. _

“Wilson had a lot of enemies in New York, but he also had many, many friends.” Em frowned. It’s not often you hear a Mayor refer to a former rival as having “enemies.” She made a mental note to write it down once the conference was over. “I’m honoured to consider myself one of those friends,” Norman continued. “He was massively influential in this city through his many business entities and New York, and myself, will miss him dearly. No questions.” He made a big deal of that last sentence, as if he was expecting a riot from the crowd after he said it. Em wasn’t surprised. It was early in the morning, and Norman wasn’t going to risk going off-script and endangering his re-election campaign over something spontaneous or unexpected. She made that note, stopped her voice recorder, and checked over the pictures she got. _ Well, there’s nothing unique in the recording, everyone in town recorded that conference. Are there any great pictures? _

She didn’t think so, but she also wasn’t the only judge of that. Em doesn’t attend many breaking news events, but when she does (or when she’s anywhere she deems newsworthy enough), she takes pictures into “The Daily Bugle” offices and sees if they’ll buy any of them. Normally, the paper wouldn’t let anyone walk in like that, let alone a university student, but Em knows the receptionist quite well, and therefore has a connection to the editorial department.

Em packed her bag, and took a public-transport bus to the newspaper office and sat down in the lobby. The receptionist at the “Bugle” was a woman in her mid-twenties by the name of Amanda Brant. Amanda saw Em sitting with her laptop and walked over. “I guess I don’t need to ask you if you were at the conference.” She said with a smirk.

Em looked up with a smile. “Good morning, Ms. Brant.” Amanda nodded and gave Em a USB stick that she could load her pictures to. Five minutes later, Em returned the drive with twelve photos on it.

“Let’s see.” Amanda loaded the drive into her computer. She was the first and only filter before the photos reached the paper’s editor-in chief, J. Jonah Jameson, who, in his old-fashioned way, insisted on seeing every photo before they entered the paper. “We had a reporter there, Cody, so these need to be good for Jonah to see them.” Amanda was secretly rooting for a good photo, as she was hoping that Em could find a job there after university. She enjoyed Em’s company, and more often than not, she took good photos - sometimes better than their breaking news photographer, Cody Leeds.

While Amanda was looking them over, Em snuck a look at her phone. She had texted her classmate Ian for an update on how the class was going. Ian had sent back a one line reply, reading only “well there’s no test,” which is not what Em had asked.

“There’s a couple good ones here.” Amanda said. “The rest are alright, but not print material.” 

_That’s about what I expected, _Em thought. “How much will those two pay?” She asked.

Amanda drank from her coffee. At least, Em assumed it was coffee. Whatever it was, it was inside a red paper cup. “If Jonah likes them enough to print, twenty-five dollars apiece. If not, I’ll add them to the paper’s personal exclusive archive, and they’ll be five bucks each. Sound good?”

Em nodded, then went back to the seats to wait for a verdict from the paper’s outspoken editor. 

J. Jonah Jameson had accepted Em’s photos four times before, out of the twenty-five that Amanda had deemed worthy of a presentation to him. She tracked it on a notes app on her phone. She checked the news app on her phone. Still no cause of death for Wilson Fisk. She wasn’t surprised - she expected a public announcement to take at least half of a day, with a chance it could take up to 24 hours.

Amanda returned to the front office after a few more minutes had passed. “The boss doesn’t think as highly of them as compared to I,” she said in a slightly sarcastic tone that annoyed Em. “I’ll give you the five each for our personal archives?”

“Actually, Amanda, I’ll keep them.” It was an answer that surprised even Em herself, but one that came from pure instinct and nothing more. She also knew that she was going to write about the Fisk news later that evening, and figured having a good photo with it couldn’t hurt the quality. Ten dollars wasn’t going to change her life.

Amanda shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll delete them from my machine.” Em nodded as a gesture of thanks and left. On the way to the nearest subway station, she heard a loud noise. It was a noise that started with a loud crashing noise, but what followed was a high pitched whirring sound. Both sounds, especially the latter of the two, were loud enough to overpower her earbuds. Her head turned in the direction of the noise - left - as an instant reaction. She reached for her bag and pulled out her camera.

Most people would have put their heads down and continued walking in the direction they’d started in, likely at an increased pace.

Not Em Watson.

Perhaps it was foolish or naive to expect a situation that a camera could have flashed and a story could have been developed out of a crash, but Em went with her career in mind. It was a move that would have brought a knowing grin to Mr. Leland Owlsley’s face.

Em kept as silent as she could as she approached the area where she heard the noises. She walked along the cement walls of the sideroads, and looked around each corner near where the sound had occurred. Eventually, she found the corner. It was empty. She waited for five minutes, watching in all directions to make sure she wasn’t being watched or followed. Once she decided it was safe, she walked into the area. It was still before noon, so it was still bright, but the balconies hanging from the apartment buildings above the area darkened the scene. Em pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight.

At first, she didn’t notice anything abnormal. Within a few seconds, however, she noticed that the base of an apartment building had a gigantic chunk taken out of it, as if someone had hit it with a hammer. Em frowned. The material of the building’s base was cement. Hitting it wouldn’t have made a noise that was that loud. She looked around the damaged part of the building. Below it was a patch of ground that was wet. On the cement, there were a few small areas with a green paste-like substance. Em made a makeshift-glove out of a piece of her notepad paper and piled some of the wet ground into her bag, emptying the bag of pens into the bottom of the bag so she had a place for it. She used another notepad page to scoop some of the fallen cement in another pocket, making sure some of the green substance was on it. Once that was done, she looked around again quickly, put her camera away, and exited out onto the street, trying to look as casual as she could. 

_What was that whirring noise?_

Thoughts about the event were all over Em’s mind as she was on the train home. _ Where can I get these analysed? Harry might be able to help me get to Oscorp’s researchers? Maybe? How restricted is it? _

Once she got off the subway, she called Harry. Harry answered on the second ring. “Harry Osborne, who is this?”

_Fuck, he doesn’t have my number._

“He-hey Harry, it’s Emelyn Watson, I go to ESU and saw your number on the wall. Do you...have a minute?” While she finished up the last part of the sentence, it occured to Em that she was probably taking advantage of Harry. _ Damn. _

“What’s happening, Emelyn Watson?” Harry said Em’s full name in a way that made her cringe.

Em swallowed. _ What do I say? Do I go all in and just say I have something that needs analyzing by his father’s company? I can’t. His father would probably get suspicious. _

“Hello?”

_Dammit. _ “Yeah, hi, sorry.” She laughed artificially to try and sound like she’d lost her connection. “I was just curious to see what the party situation for Saturday is going to be like. A few of my friends are planning on going and we were wondering what kind of stuff to expect.” _ Awkward. _ “I mean, from your building. It’s a big building.” _ Note to self: stop talking. Forever._

“Hell yeah it is. Biggest building to hold a party in the history of NYC.” There was a pause, and then Em could hear Harry yelling faintly to someone in the background. “It doesn’t matter if that can’t be verified, nerd!”

Em decided quickly that she needed to get off the phone, as she was finding talking to Harry was a rather unpleasant experience. Harry got back on the phone abruptly. “So who are your friends? Anyone I know? Who gave you the number?”

_Harry, your number is on every party poster at ESU. There’s a party poster at every corner of ESU._

Truthfully, Em wrote the number in her phone for Gwen, who had been planning on calling Harry directly for directions. Gwen described it as a potential “bonding experience.” Em thought of it as a weak flirting tactic, and she had expected that Harry would see right through it, if he answered at all. In fact, Em was pretty surprised that Harry had picked up the phone in this case.

“Um, a few people.” _ Really Em? Who? _“Do you know Gwen Stacy?” She figured Gwen wouldn’t mind the name drop, considering she had been talking non-stop about him and the event since the concept of the party was leaked around the school a few weeks prior.

Em could hear Harry clear his throat on the other side of the phone. “Uh, I think I know _ of _Gwen Stacy.” There was a pause. Harry shouted something at whoever else was in the room with him, but he covered the phone’s mic so it was too muffled to hear. He returned a moment later. “Yeah, I know Gwen. Friend of a friend.” Em raised her eyebrows.

Then, after another pause, Harry said something that caught Em completely by surprise.

“Did you two... maybe want to come over this afternoon?”

Em spoke quickly into the phone. “Wait, what? Us two?”

Harry responded in the same calm, cool tone that he’d brought to the entire conversation. “I mean, if you want. You said you wanted to know what to expect from the building, and my friend seems to really want to reconnect with your friend.”

_Fuck it. I need this stuff analysed. _ “I’ll see if Gwen’s free.” _ She’ll be free. _ Em was playing through situations in her head. “What if she’s not?” She asked anyway, just to see what Harry would say.

“Uh, I guess we could do this another day or something.” _ So it is all about Gwen, _ Em thought bitterly. _ Guess there’s no reason for him to want me there, really. _

“I’ll text you if she’s free. It’s Tuesday, so I think she is.” The reference to what day it was was simply a cover for the previous question.

“Rad. Let me know.” The phone clicked before Em could respond. _ Rad? What year is this? _

By the time the conversation with Harry had concluded, Em had finished her route from the subway to her dormitory building. When she got to the room, as she had expected, Gwen was there, sitting in her bedroom with the door between the main room and the room wide open.

Em dropped her bag, and Gwen started talking. She usually started the conversation, and today was no different. “How was ethics class?”

“Well, there wasn’t a test.”

“That’s good.”  
  
“I got that detail confirmed, because...” Em waited for the inevitable reaction to follow. “I didn’t actually go.”

Gwen’s eyes went wide. “You _ skipped _ ? You _ never _skip, Em.”

_It’s like listening to a disappointed parent._

“So, why? Are you just rebelling? About fucking time, if you ask me.”

Em rolled her eyes. “No one asked you, believe me.”

“That hurts.” Gwen gave Em a smile on her way over to the washroom.

“It was because there was no test, and I just wasn’t feeling it.” Em didn’t want Gwen to know the real reason, mostly because she was anxious that if she were to share, Gwen would tell Harry and she’d be left with no way to get the samples analysed.

“Fair. I did that a couple times last week.” Em raised an eyebrow. _ I’m aware of your essay grades, Gwen. You can’t get away with it. _

As if on cue, Gwen continued. “Actually, I’m thinking about doing that today. There’s a party tonight that I’d really like to rest for.”

“Rad.” Em said, knowing that would set up the part of the conversation she’d been waiting for.

_“Rad? _ Who the fuck says _ that _ in 2018?” Gwen was shouting from the other room now. _ At least it’s daylight this time._

“Hipsters. Baby boomers trying to fit in, aaand Harry Osborne.”

Gwen stuck her head out from her bedroom. “Wait, what was that?”

“Harry says the word ‘rad’ when in conversation, Gwen. Do you need a hearing aid?”

“When were _ you _talking to Harry?”

This was going almost exactly parallel to how Em had imagined it.

“I was on the phone with him today."

“Shut up.” Gwen’s eyes had more life to them at this moment than Em had seen in years. “What did you talk to him about?”

“Well, he invited us to see the building today so we know what to expect for the party.” Em intentionally omitted the fact that Harry’s friend seemed to be more interested in seeing her than Harry himself. _ I should probably let her have this. _

Gwen’s eyes went wide. “What time are we going?”

“I thought you had a party.”  
  
“What party?”


	3. A Formal Dress on 3:32 on Tuesday

_ Oh, god. _

Em wasn’t surprised when she saw Gwen in a formal dress upon arrival to the front of the apartment, but she _ was _ annoyed.

“It’s not a formal event, Gwen.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I’m allowed to look good, Em. Does it have to be a formal event for me to look good?”

“It’s November, and you’re wearing more makeup than you would have at the party.”

“Are we going?” 

Even with Harry’s casual invite, Osborne Mansion is a place that has an aura of perfection, so as the two arrived, Gwen was able to fit into the scene as if it were totally normal to be wearing a formal dress at 3:32 on a Tuesday afternoon. 

The doors were tall and activated by a motion sensor, opening with a whirring noise to reveal a large lobby decorated with marble walls and antique paintings. “So, what now?” Gwen asked. “Do we just walk up to the reception and say ‘we’re here to see the big man’s son,’ or is there more to it?” Em walked to the side of the room and motioned for Gwen to do the same.

The redhead pulled out her phone, and called Harry again, feeling the small pieces of cement in her pocket, now secured by a small plastic bag that she picked up on the way back to her apartment. He picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Emelyn Watson.” His tone was the same one that had irritated her before. In her two brief conversations with him, she got the sense he had an aura of superiority around him. For now, though, that wouldn’t matter. All she had to do was get to know him, and slip her newfound mysterious element subtly into a conversation. 

“H-hey Harry,” she stammered into the phone. “We’re down at the lobby.”

“Nice.” His confidence was beaming through his voice, even through the phone. “Gwen’s there too? _ Yes, Harry. She’s here. That was the reason you let me here, right? It wouldn’t make much sense for me to just not bring her along. _

“Yes, she’s beside me, right here.” How should we meet you?” _ That was awkward phrasing. Am I being too formal? I feel like I’m being too formal. _

“Go up to the main reception desk, and say ‘H, Z, One, Coffee, Dogs’ to whoever’s sitting there.” 

Em blinked. _ Harry, if you’re trolling, I swear to... _

“You there?” Harry’s voice echoed through the phone. “Yeah,” Em replied, “H, Z, One, Coffee, Dogs? They’ll know what that means? Seriously?”

“I know, it’s super goofy, right? Dad set it up when I was like, seven. Every day I have a different code or some shit, and that’s today’s. That’s how you and Gwen can get up here and chill.” Em didn’t like the way he said “chill,” either, but she also knew that any remarks about it wouldn’t help her on her mini-quest.

“Sounds good then, I guess.” Her phone gave a beep to signal that he hung up, and she looked at Gwen. “Alright, G, Harry Osborne time.”

Em narrowed an eye. “And before you say anything, you look fine. Let’s go.”

* * *

The elevator had fifty-two floors listed, but no buttons to press. After the lady at the desk had given them security clearance, Em was given a card to scan onto a small square. Once she scanned it, the elevator started on a swift move to whatever floor Harry was on. 

“What should my opening line be?” Gwen was looking at the ceiling.

_ Therrrre’s the theatre major. _

“I don’t know, G,” Em said, trying to hide her anxiety.

*Ding* The elevator stopped abruptly. An automated voice filled the elevator. “ARRIVED AT DESTINATION.”

Em was expecting a hallway with a business-related atmosphere. Instead, she was surprised to see that the door opened directly to a large main room, where a set of fancy couches were sitting, surrounded by other impressive furniture. There was a small set of three stairs on the left side of the room that led to a mini-bar setup and a dinner table, with three large doors beyond that.

On the right side of the couch set up, there was a large bookshelf display surrounding a fireplace and an ice-hockey machine.

Behind all of it, on the back wall, the wall you see first when you get off of the elevator, a huge glass window that stands as tall as the ceiling. _ That ceiling must be the tallest in the city, _thought Em, as she stepped off the platform and into the room.

“Where’s Harry?” Gwen stepped tentatively onto the carpet ahead of Em and took a look both ways. Suddenly, her question was answered by a large figure appearing out of a door beyond the dinner table on the left side of the room. “Hey! We’re doing science-y shit in here,” he said. “Come on!”

Seeing Harry Osborne on a party poster, on his Instagram account, or on ESU’s TV channel doesn’t do his height justice, Em learned quickly after entering the room behind Gwen. Harry was at least 6-foot-7, with the muscle and confidence of a pro athlete. Next to him, sitting at a desk in the middle of the room, was someone who was much smaller, donning the appearance of someone more studious and less athletic. He had glasses and was wearing a bright orange sweater with autumn leaves on the sleeves, a clear contrast to Harry’s thin, light blue muscle shirt.

“Shh. Watch this,” Harry said as he motioned to a test tube on the desk. The test tube was filled with a dark blue liquid. Mr. Glasses dropped a second, clear liquid from a small cup into the test tube, and Em watched in amazement as the dark blue colour from inside the test tube turned into a rainbow-coloured paste. As the liquid was turning into a solid paste, it expanded outside the test tube and onto the desk. Harry smiled, but Mr. Glasses was focused on the tube, whispering softly at the paste. Em focused as it seemed to move, ever so slightly with the words. _ That’s my imagination, right? He’s not making it move. That’s literally impossible. It’s been a long day. _

She was looking intently at the new paste-like material until she heard her name from Harry’s voice, and she snapped her head back up to look at him. “Emelyn Watson, that’s you, then?”

_ I guess Gwen’s already introduced herself. _

She pushed back her hair and forced a smile. “Yes, that’s me. I go by Em, actually.” Harry’s eyebrows raised. “Cool,” he said. “I’m Harry, obviously, and this is Pete.” _ Oh shit. That’s why he wanted Gwen to come over. _

Mr. Glasses, or Pete, looked up suddenly and his eyes widened. “Gwen?” Em glanced over at Gwen, knowing full well that she’s not the most skilled at hiding her emotions. Sure enough, she was wide-eyed and blushing. “Hey, Pete.”

_ This could actually be pretty nice? _

Obviously Em’s original intentions were totally selfish, she knew that, but knowing that Gwen was so excited that Pete had returned from London brought a different light to this meeting. She suddenly understood why Harry was pushing for Gwen to come along. Who gives a shit about some tour around a huge building? 

“You two good to catch up for a bit?” Harry was walking out of the room, motioning to Em to do the same. “Yeah, um, thank you, yes. Thanks Harry.” Pete was clearly surprised by the twist in his day. Em raised an eyebrow. _ That rocks. Go Gwen. _


	4. Assistant Captain, BearCats

Em followed Harry out of the room, by the dinner table, and down the stairs. Harry paused to look outside the giant window, and then sat down on one of the couches in the main area. 

Tentatively, Em sat down across from him. She found herself surprised at how soft the couch cushion was. The couch looked formal, as if no one had ever sat there before. _ The Osborne cleaning staff must be great. _

“So,” Harry leaned back into his seat. “Those two go way back, right?” Em wasn’t surprised that the conversation had started in that direction, she knew he’d been thinking about it for most of the afternoon. “Does Pete talk about Gwen a lot?”

Harry stood up and made his way over to a mini-fridge on one of the counters by the bar-like area. “I don’t know if I’d say a _ lot, _” he said absent-mindedly while fishing through the fridge. He eventually recovered two bottles of water. “But he has mentioned her a couple times, and he’s only been back for a week or so.”

He handed her the water. “Does she talk about him?” They heard a loud laugh from the other room, and Harry winced. “Is this going to be a _ thing _, with the fancy dresses and the...” He paused, and continued carefully. “Expression?” 

Em was not about to tell Harry that she had worn the formal dress for him, and she was not about to make any assumptions about where Gwen’s mind was at when it came to her and Pete. “She’s talked about him once or twice,” she admitted. “She knew he’d come home from London.”

Harry nodded. “That scholarship was tough for him, you can tell. He’s having a bit of a hard time connecting with people back here now.” Em was thinking about whether she’d be comfortable going outside the country to study, forgetting all about the reason she was in the Osborne Mansion, when Harry changed his focus suddenly.

“So, what did you want to see?” He said this with a genuine interest that Em hadn’t noticed in any of their conversations to this point. To her mind, this was the first time Harry was interested in what she had to say, rather than something related to Gwen Stacy. 

_Don’t screw this up._

This is the moment she had played out in her mind repeatedly since the end of their original phone call. On the walk home, Em’s social anxiety had to be eased with a hit of CBD from the vapour pen that was now sitting in her leather bag back in her apartment. She reached into her pocket again, like she had in the lobby. She felt the small plastic bag with the small pieces of concrete and the mysterious green paste inside. “Well, I guess I’ve seen some of it already,” she said nervously. “Biggest building to hold a party in NYC history, right?”

Harry laughed. “I said that on the phone as a bit of a joke. Pete can’t stand it. I feel like whenever I say it now, he’s around the corner to tell me that ‘it can’t be verified.’ Asshole.” He said the last word with a grin rather than hate, and Em could tell that there was a genuine bond of friendship between Harry and Pete, despite their difference in physicality.

Em brushed her hair back again absent-mindedly. “So, are you as into science as Pete?”

_Game time._

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Does it look like I’m as into science as Pete? There’s an air-hockey machine over there.” Em laughed. “I guess you _ did _call it science-y shit earlier.” 

Harry looked back at the door they’d been working in before. “Yeah, there’s a lot of science and tech shit that happens in this building, but I’ve never been a science guy. I leave that to the people like Pete, they can make a real difference if they run into something.” Harry drank the last bit from his water bottle.

“I kind of pegged you as a soda guy,” she said with a shy grin. 

Harry looked back at the fridge. “I’ve never been much for the bubbles,” he admitted. “And I can’t do much good for the Bearcats if I’m drinking Coke all the time.”

_Oh shit, right. He plays sports. Duh._

“What do you play? I don’t really follow sports or anything like that.”

Em was surprised at the direction the conversation moved in. Any thoughts of the cement in her pocket with that weird green material were long gone as the hour moved along and she learned more about Harry. He was focused mostly on himself rather than interested in her background, but his stories were interesting to Em in a way she didn’t expect.

* * *

Harry Osborne is an only child, the son of Norman and Grace Osborne. When Harry was a child, Grace fell ill and passed away, leaving sole custody to Norman. Too often, that meant that Harry was under the care of Oscorp staff. He grew up in the building, on the very floor that he had invited Em onto. Despite growing up in the most famous building in the city, he never was able to explore as much of it as he would’ve liked. Norman was strict about Harry staying in “his lane,” which came to mean that Harry should stay on his floor, or outside of the building. 

During secondary school, Harry tried out for his school football team under the advice of one of his school counselors. The counselor thought it would grow his team-building and athletic skills, and it worked wonders - to the point where Harry grew to be the star quarterback. When talking about it with new acquaintances, he describes it as “the perfect cliche turn-of-events.” 

He used his high school success in interviews with colleges, but never got a scholarship - not that it mattered, considering his University life was fully paid for by Oscorp.

Even though everything was handed to Harry easily, it’s rare that people get a vibe from him that’s warm and welcoming. Harry considers himself a mixture of the traditional introverted and extroverted personalities. He’s never had a problem with crowds, and he’s not the type to shy away from large events, but he’s also not likely to volunteer to throw parties.

That’s where he differs from his reputation. The party posters at the university and status as an assistant captain of the football team would lead you to believe that he’s the perfect archetype of the fun-loving sports-jock, but he’s closer to the traditionally thoughtful, cautious type.

He’s also not exclusively athletic-minded. He’ll never be a professional writer, or prolific in the “sciency shit,” but his professors at ESU would describe him as “well on his way” to graduating, with solid grades in all of his chosen subjects. He’s also one of the lead anchors of the ESU TV network, voicing reports and features over. Some would consider him to have a future at a television station, or perhaps a reporter for a football team if his athletic career stalled.

Harry had actually increased his time spent at the TV network of late, mostly because his football career was, unfortunately, on that road to a stall.

As a freshman, Harry was invited to the football team based on his Secondary School résumé. Grant Herderan, the incumbent quarterback for the BearCats, was a senior, and in the first week of practice, he twisted his ankle.

With less than three days until the team’s first game of the season, Harry was asked by the coach to start at quarterback until Grant was healthy. He accepted under false excitement, and nervously stepped onto the field on the eve of their first matchup.

Now, Harry’s always been a leader when he’s interested in a subject. His leadership abilities, after all, led him to popularity in his high school both in social circles and on-the-field. 

Harry, determined to live up to his coach’s expectations, borrowed the playbook and studied it for hours before the game. 

In the game, he connected with his offense brilliantly.

The BearCats won their opener in front of the home crowd, and Harry was suddenly in a spotlight that opened his life up to even more popularity. After a couple more games, the coach told him that he would continue starting when Grant was ready to come back.

When the six-foot-five Grant heard the news, he didn’t take it well. There was a private meeting between the coach and his quarterback, with several players noting later that they could hear shouting through the door.

A day after the meeting, the coach emailed the players; Grant had been cut from the team.

As they do, one era had moved on, paving the way for the next one to welcome itself in. Harry was promoted to “assistant captain,” replacing his old counterpart. The rest of the season went fairly smoothly for the team. They didn’t win any huge games, but they were entertaining and won the games that they were supposed to win. 

It turned out, actually, to be a decent life event for Grant Herderan as well. There was a Canadian scout who had attended several games during the previous BearCats season, and once he heard the news that Grant had been cut, offered him a tryout with his CFL team.

Things were seemingly moving along nicely for Harry on the athletic side, but in his sophomore year at ESU, this year, the team stopped having regular success. Harry was getting overwhelmed by a larger playbook, and he wasn’t getting along as well with some of the rookie receivers. On the third week, the coach benched him mid-game after his third interception of the evening.

Harry’s been working as hard as he possibly can to get back to his starting role on the team, but a freshman had taken his place and run with the job. Just as Harry Osborne had taken Grant Herderan’s place the previous year, LeSean Harrison had taken Harry Osborne’s spot in this season.

Unlike Grant, Harry didn’t yell at the coach, or complain about his reduced playing time. That isn’t in his nature. He opted instead to put his head down and vow to improve as much as possible. To this day, Tuesday, December 18th, Harry is working on new strategies to help the team and expand the BearCats’ playbook. He has a meeting with LeSean Harrison every week.

His helpfulness doesn’t go unnoticed. The coaching staff, despite his lower-quality play, love having Harry around. They’re the first to defend his character and his importance to the team. They often find themselves defending Harry’s status as an “assistant captain.”

The players have always noticed too, but Harry’s noticed that this season that tone has largely changed. In his freshman year, Harry felt like players came to him when they wanted help or advice for different situations. Wanting to be a team player, he jumped to help whenever he could. This year, though, the new players and even some of the old players came up to him for help much more often, and increasingly for off-the-field requests. Harry’s often felt like he’s been taken advantage of this year, but he’s swallowed his complaints and continued to help his team. “Be a team player,” he’d think to himself repeatedly.

After a winning effort in early November, most of the team went to a restaurant for celebratory post-game drinks. That’s where the topic of the Christmas Party was brought up. It was LeSean Harrison’s idea to have it at The Osborne Mansion. Harry didn’t agree to it at first. Sure, it was a huge building, but the only room he had guaranteed access to was _ his _room. That’s when T.J. Kelsey said, definitively, that the entirety of ESU was going to be invited to the party at The Osborne Mansion.

Harry, trying to hold onto his image as a captain of the team, closed his eyes while the rest of the team cheered their glasses to T.J’s statement. His idea of a Christmas Party was to invite a few close friends over to his place and watch classic Christmas TV specials.

But, in his mind, there was nothing he could do now.

It may have been a simple call, but there was something symbolic about the picture of Harry and Pete talking about science in the room when Em and Gwen had first walked in. Even Em’s phone call from earlier in the day, when Harry and Pete were messing around, showed Harry in a relaxed mood that made him sound confident and as extroverted as his public persona would seem. Those scenes made Harry seem on-brand for his image, but he was actually only that relaxed because he was hanging out with Pete. Pete and Harry have been friends for a long time, and Harry doesn’t feel pressure to impress anyone or put on a false face when he’s around him.

And, admittedly, there were a couple of light drinks that had been consumed that afternoon, leading to Harry’s boastful phone remark that the party was in “the biggest building to hold a party in the history of NYC.”

You’d be surprised how few people had called the number that was on the party posters around ESU. Em’s observation that Harry’s number was on every corner of the school was true, but she was the first to call it. Harry’s confusion on where she got the number was genuine - he thought that the team had put someone else’s number on the poster, perhaps T.J. Kelsey’s.

He wasn’t aware that they put his on it without asking him.

When Em had made that call and asked to see the building so she could know what to expect, Harry had no idea what to say. Once he heard Gwen’s name, he knew it would be an easy way to re-connect her with Pete, so he was fine with any other visitors.

He invited them up with apparent confidence, even if he himself had no idea what to expect from the upcoming party.


End file.
